Bruises
by larrydrarryklaine
Summary: Harry can't stand to see Louis get hurt. Larry Stylinson. WARNING: Might be a trigger for some people.


**ATTENTION: THIS STORY IS ABOUT A BAND THAT I CREATED IN MY HEAD. THE BAND IS CALLED "NO DIRECTION" AND THE MEMBERS ARE AS FOLLOWS:  
-HARRY STILES  
-LOUIS THOMLINSON  
-ZAYN MALICK  
-LIAM PAIN  
-NIALL HORAM  
ALL CHARACTERS AND EVENTS IN THIS STORY ARE COMPLETELY FICTIONAL. ANY LIKENESS TO ACTUAL PEOPLE AND/OR EVENTS IS COMPLETELY COINCIDENTAL AND UNINTENTIONAL.**

**Warnings: **

**-Cursing**

**-Abuse**

**-Gayness**

**A/N: Enjoy and leave a review!**

_Crack._ "Fuck you."

_Slap_. "Worthless faggot."

_Thump. _"Go die."

I never thought this would be my life. Things like this don't happen to people like me. They happen to other people, people you hear about on the news, fake people in movies and books and in the occasional school assembly, but not to me. Never to me.

I used to laugh at those assemblies. I used to giggle at the videos and joke about the people in them, make a mockery out of their tragic, horrible lives. If we had another assembly like that I'm not even sure if I would notice. School has become just a blur for me, a blur of hiding bruises and avoiding questions and worrying about what will happen to me when I get home. Will he become that man again? Will he be sitting there in his big leather chair, abandoned glass on the table and half empty bottle in his grimy palm, just waiting to take out all his anger on me? Or will he be my dad again? Will he laugh at my jokes and pat me roughly on the back like he used to? Will he get up early to go to work and come back in time for dinner? Will he tell me that he loves me? So far that hasn't happened yet. And I keep wishing for the day that it will, but I just don't think that it's coming.

"Come on Louis get up!" My dad shouts at me. He's standing above me, one hand on a nearby counter for support and the other balled up into a tight fist with my own blood staining the skin of his knuckles. "Fight me like a fucking man!"

He stands there for a while just staring at me like he's trying to see if today will be the day that I actually do something. But of course it's not, it never will be. With one final bruising kick to my stomach he stalks off and up the stairs, muttering something about "…make me sick."

I'm not sure how long I just lied there for. All I know is that when I got up there was dried blood caked in my hair and discoloring my face. My stomach ached with pain every time I moved and my nose throbbed continuously where it had connected with my father's fist and all I could think of was how I was going to explain this to Harry.

…

I walk into school in, thankfully, less pain than last night. I stole some of my sister's makeup long ago, when this had all started, and I used some of it this morning to cover up my purple nose as best I could, leaving it with a slightly bluish tint. With any luck Harry won't notice. Although it's not like he doesn't know about it. In a day full of stuttering and tears I had told him everything, how my mum left and my sisters and I had to choose between staying with her or staying with our dad. They picked her. I picked him. I wasn't going to originally, it wasn't until I saw the anguish in his tired eyes after his own daughters had abandoned him that I made the worst decision I have ever made in my entire life. I made Harry swear to me he wouldn't tell, and as far as I know he hasn't.

_"We've been best mates since the first grade, Harry!"_ I remember telling him. _"We don't tell each other's secrets!"_ He had looked down at me for a while; just staring deep into my pleading eyes and I could see it in his face that he didn't want to say it, but he already knew he wasn't going to tell a soul.

_"Only for a little while, Louis."_ He had said to me through gritted teeth. That was over a year ago. _"Only for a little while."_

We don't talk about it, but I can tell Harry thinks about it. That's what he does with everything. He thinks. He's always been that shy boy off in the corner, that's how we met. As a child I was very talkative and outgoing and I couldn't understand how anyone could sit still and be quiet like Harry did each and every day. One recess I remember very clearly seeing him sitting all alone on a bench, kicking his feet and twiddling his thumbs. I walked up to him and sat down. His looked positively bewildered at the action and I couldn't help but feel slightly sorry for him. We sat in silence for what was probably a few seconds, but to me it felt like hours, until I spoke up.

_"Do you like TV?"_

_"Uh, yeah, I guess."_

_"What shows?"_

_"Uh… I dunno."_

_"I like Transformers. Do you like Transformers?" _

_"Uh, yeah I do." _

_"Good."_

_"Yeah."_

And that was it. For weeks on end that was what all our conversations would be like. I could ramble on for hours and he would just sit there and listen and because of that I started calling him my friend. Eventually he started to talk back, that's when I started to call him my best friend. Now Harry's not as quiet as he used to be. He's more social and gets on well with mostly everyone at school.

_"But you're the only one I feel like I can talk to, you know?" _He had told me not too long ago and I had nodded because, _"Yeah, I do know."_

I walk into my first period drama class early, just like every other day. I leave my house as soon as possible every morning, even if it means I have to sit outside the school for an hour or so before they actually open the doors. That house just makes me feel so sad and I want to spend as little time there as I can. It's the same house I've lived in my whole life. Same squeaky wooden panels in the halls and stained glass window on the front door and even the same 'Welcome' mat on the front porch, but it just doesn't _feel_ like the same house. I used to come home from school every day and it would be so full of life. My mum would be cooking and my sisters would be playing in practically every room and I would play with them, or watch TV, or call Harry. It didn't matter what I did because no matter what I was home and I was safe and I was happy. That's what being home meant to me. But now I see that worn down 'Welcome' mat and I think back to the last time my mum walked on it, suitcase in hand. I see that stained glass window, now covered in tape, and I remember the time my dad shoved me against the door so hard that the glass shattered. Now I hear the squeaking of the floorboards and I shudder with fear at the thought of waking up my dad.

"Hey Loubear!" My head snaps up from the desk I'd nearly fallen asleep on at the familiar chime of Harry's voice. At first he's smiling that way he does, all white teeth bared and dimples prominent on his cheeks when he sees my nose. The reaction is instant, his face drops and his eyebrows crinkle with concern. He quickens his step and sits next to me.

"You okay?" He asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm fine." I say. And that's that. Harry reclines back in his seat with a small nod but I can tell my answer is not enough for him. It never is.

"Louis?" He says maybe a few minutes later. Class still hasn't started yet but a few more people have drifted in so I make sure to give Harry the best _'keep your mouth shut' _look one can possibly give.

"Yes Harry?"

"Do you think you could come over after school?" He asks and I'm surprised. He doesn't like having people over at his house, says it makes him feel "unsure."

"Why?"

"I dunno, it's Friday and I've got nothing to. Besides it seems like you could use some time outside your house." I smile because _God_ I need some time outside my house.

"Yeah, okay." His smile is back on his face and I try my best to ignore the way my heart warms knowing that I put it there.

…

"I win!" Harry stands, throwing his arms up victoriously into the air. "I win I win I win I win!" I can't help but smile at the way he parades around his small, messy, bedroom, waving his controller high above his head like some sort of flag. We'd just spent the past few hours playing some videogame that I couldn't name of I tried. It was one of those games where you just sit there for hours, doing nothing but shooting people's heads off. That's what we do every time I come over, I usually win though and Harry will pout and whine, in the most lovable way possible, because of it.

"Alright Harry!" I laugh. "You won!" I stand up to him and try my best to rip the controller out of his hands but he holds it higher, just out of my reach.

"Oh no, Boobear. You're gonna have to try much harder then that." He chuckles while I struggle for the next few minutes, standing on my tiptoes and stretching out every part of me.

"Fuck, when did you get so tall?" I huff out.

"Oh I don't know," Harry drawls. "maybe it happened while I was WINNING!"

I laugh loudly and something in the way I laugh causes a pain to rip through the side of my stomach, right where Dad had kicked me. "Shit." I mumble as I crumple in on myself. I nearly fall over but Harry's arms are there almost immediately.

"Louis? You okay?" He asks while he sort of half carries me to his bed, one of my arms wrapped around his shoulders and his arm supporting my back.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I say as he lays me down gently.

"Are you sure?" He looks down at me, eyes full of concern, and I don't know what to say at first. That's as close as we've ever come to talking about it again and the word 'no' would be so simple to say. Two letters one syllable, easy. It's what comes after that keeps holding me back. Telling him the first time was hard enough; I'm not ready for that again.

"Yes." _Every God damn time_. Harry just nods, exactly like he did in class today, and lies down next to me. We sit in silence for a long time; I don't think either of us really knows what to say. I know what Harry _wants _to say, but I doubt he will. Not today at least. Maybe someday he'll snap, he'll get sick of waiting for me the one to break the seal, because honestly, he'd be the one to do it. I'm way too scared.

"Hey Louis?" He says after several minutes have passed.

"Yes Harry." I say hoping for something, anything that will make me feel better.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Uh, sure." I say, slightly wary.

"Promise you won't be offended."

"Harry what are you-" I say turning towards him, but he interrupts me.

"Louis it's important. Just promise." Both his face and tone are serious so I agree.

"I promise." He doesn't speak immediately; he closes his eyes first then takes a deep breath. As he exhales his green eyes flicker open and he stares directly into my blue ones as he speaks.

"Are you gay Louis?" My eyes widen in shock.

"What?" I ask.

"Are you gay?" He repeats like that's a sane thing to ask me.

"N-no I get _that_ it's just… Why?

"Well Zayn," I internally roll my eyes. Zayn is one of Harry's friends from football and athletic kids like that don't get along with theatre geeks like me. The only exception to that rule is Harry. "he said that he saw you, outside the auditorium, making out with Oliver Archer." And I froze because I _had_ made out with Oliver Archer outside the auditorium and I am about ninety nine percent sure that I _am _gay. I just didn't want to tell Harry that, but I guess I'm sort of screwed now.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah I'm gay." I say and for a second I was so sure I would feel his knuckles colliding with my face, until he spoke.

"Okay." He said. I waited for him to continue, but he said nothing. I was about to yell at him for having his best friend come out of the closet and the only thing he says is 'okay.' but I didn't. I don't really want to talk about this anymore either. I feel sort of drained. Physically, mentally, emotionally. All I want to do is sleep. And part of me never wants to wake up.

"Louis?" Harry says just as I'm about to drift off.

"Mhmm." I mumble with my eyes still shut.

"Why Oliver Archer?" He asks and for a few minutes I'm not really sure how to answer.

"I don't know, he was flirting with me and he's pretty cute." I say because really, there were no other reasons.

"I guess." Harry mumbles almost angrily and I would've asked him why if I weren't so tired. After a couple more minutes of silence Harry speaks one last time.

"I don't like Oliver Archer." He says bitterly.

"Hm." Is all I have the energy to say before I fall asleep.

…

"Louis? Rise n' shine Loubear, c'mon." Harry says somewhat softly as he shakes my shoulders gently.

"Harry stop. Lemme sleep." I mumble tiredly and Harry chuckles.

"No can do Lou. It's nearly eleven and…"

"What?" I say springing up into a sitting position causing a dull ache to throb through my side. I hiss and clutch at the fabric of my shirt and Harry is quick to sooth me.

"Slow down Louis." He mumbles with a gentle arm running up the length of my spine. "What's the matter?"

"I was supposed to be home by ten." I say, standing up although it pains me to do so, in more ways than one. "My dad…" Was all I had to say before Harry responded with a quiet,

"Oh."

"Yeah." I begin to gather my things, my backpack in the corner and my cell phone on the end table, with Harry's watchful eyes following me the whole time. "Can you give me a ride?" My head feels sort of swampy from sleep and slowly but surely I begin to realize how much danger I might have just put myself in just by falling asleep. Having Harry there for as long as possible just might make me feel better. But the answer I got was one that I never imagined paired with the question.

"I'm not going to do that." Harry says, jaw set and green eyes wide.

"What do you mean? Look I know it's late and you're probably tired bu-"

"I don't give a fuck about how late it is." I say nothing so Harry continues, standing up and towering above me. "I can't keep letting you go back there. I'm sick of it. I'm sick of him, Louis."

"He's my dad, Harry." I say, shocked.

"He's a monster. He's a jackass and an idiot and a monster and you shouldn't have to put up with it. For fuck's sake, why? Why do you put up with it, Louis?"

"What other choice do I have?" I answered. "I have no where else to go."

"You have everywhere else to go!" Harry argues. "Go to your mum's, your aunt's, your uncle's, fucking sleep in an alleyway! Anywhere is better than that place."

"Harry I can't just leave whenev-"

"Stay with me."

"What?" I say.

"Stay with me. You can sleep in my bed and I can make you food and you'll be safe. You'll be so safe Louis please. Please stay with me."

"I'm perfectly safe where I am." I say and I'm not sure why I'm lying to him. There's no use in it.

"No you are not. You can't live like this forever, Louis."

"Oh, so you're saying I'm weak now?" I question. I have no idea why I'm arguing with him, trying to defend my petty little lifestyle. I guess I was expecting Harry to take it all back. To make things into what they used to be when we never talked about this and we both pretended nothing bad happened. But that couldn't have been farther from what actually happened.

"You want the truth?" He snarls.

"Yeah, I do."

"You are weak. You didn't used to be but you sure as hell are now. And you know why? It's him. Every time you come to school with a new bruise or a new limp you get weaker and weaker and it's all his fault."

"That's not true." I insist with tears stinging my eyes.

"Look at yourself, Louis! You're tired all the time; you can't pay attention to anyone or anything. All the things you used to do, used to love, are meaningless to you now! When was the last time you saw your sisters?" I say nothing.

"Exactly!" He exclaims when suddenly his face softens. His places a gentle hand on my cheek and I tense immediately.

"Too weak to even smile." He mumbles sadly, his voice barely above a whisper. "And you had such a beautiful smile, Louis." A sudden rage builds up inside of me and I slap his hand away with a loud crack.

"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about!" I shout at him as I turn and run for the door.

"Louis, please!" Harry chases after me. I can hear his heavy footsteps pounding downwards as the floorboards beneath our feet turn to concrete and grass and I want so badly to turn around. To run straight into his arms, bury my head in his neck and never come out but I can't seem to make my feet stop and turn. I just keep running and running until I don't know where I am and I can't hear Harry behind me anymore and I cry. I cry for minutes or hours or days or weeks and it hurts. I can't breathe and it hurts so fucking bad. My knees hit ground before I even realize I'm falling and I hear a crack that might be my phone and how come no one hears me? How come I can't hear me and God I must look so pathetic and ugly and I hear footsteps. Lots of footsteps all circling around me and getting closer and closer until there is no escape and there's a hand on my shoulder and a "Louis, are you alright?" and then nothing. Blank. Black. Nothing.

…

"… Panic attack. He passed out a few blocks away. This young man found him and brought him here." A voice, definitely female, says in a soothing tone.

"He'll be alright?" A husky, broken voice that I immediately recognize as Harry asks.

"He will be just fine."

"Thank you." Mum. That voice is my mum's. On the inside I smile though on the outside I remain 'asleep.' I don't have the energy needed to uphold a conversation so I sit and I listen. Light footsteps, too light to be Harry's, trail out the room until a door squeaks open and shut and they're gone. Then silence. The only sound that fills the room is the occasional quiet puff of breath and I nearly fall back asleep when my mother speaks again.

"Thank you, Harry." She says almost sadly.

"What for?" Harry's tone sounds almost angry I know he's blaming himself for this. He's been sitting and thinking for too long and he blames himself.

"For being there. You've always been there for him, Harry. Even when I wasn't." I can practically feel the tears I know are rolling down my mother's cheeks and I start to wish I had actually fallen asleep.

"I don't know what to say." Harry's voice sounds close to tears as well, making my own eyes begin to water.

"Then shut up." My mum says and I hear Harry snort and I have to resist the urge to chuckle as well. My mum and I have always been so much alike. Silence begins to fill the room again and this time I don't fight it when I start to feel myself drift off.

…

When my eyes flicker open again they are immediately met with the harsh burn of fluorescent lighting. I hiss slightly at the feeling and shut my eyes. As I let my sight adjust I begin to notice a figure sitting by the foot of my bed.

"Mum?"

"No, Harry." A deep voice answers and I smile a little bit at the familiarity of it.

"Where is she?"

"Home." My smile fades. "She couldn't leave your sisters alone for long."

"She left them alone?"

"Didn't have time to call a babysitter."

"Oh." Silence. As my eyes continue to adjust I begin to see Harry more clearly. His back is hunched over with his elbows resting on his thighs and his head hangs lowly, blocking his face from my view.

"Why are you still here?"

"Do you want me to leave?" Harry moves to get up but I stop him quickly.

"No, I just… Aren't you tired?"

Harry chuckles slightly. "Never been more tired in my life."

"So why stay?" I ask. "Go home and sleep."

"I wanted to make sure you were okay." He says and he turns to me and as the lighting of the room washes over his face, I don't recognize him. His eyes are tired, pupils blown, his mouth is curved downwards in a frown that doesn't look like it will ever leave his face, his jaw set tightly and skin washed paler than usual.

"You look terrible." I barely whisper and he snorts, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly.

"You do to." And I chuckle. We sit in a comfortable silence for a while before Harry stretches. His back cracks loudly and he groans in pain.

"Wanna lay down?" I ask him, patting the limited space beside me on the hospital bed.

"No, I'm fine." He says politely and I resist the urge to laugh. Always such a gentleman.

"Come on curly, take a load off." He smiles and hops off of the bed, wobbling slightly on his tired legs. He works his way around the small room and stretches down beside me. Our sides press together tightly and I'm forced to pull one of my arms up and rest it on top of one of Harry's. Harry sighs comfortably when we are both settled and I can't help but smile. As we sit in silence for a while longer a question forms in my mind that I'm almost afraid to ask but I know it has to come out sometime.

"Where's my dad?" I can feel Harry tense next to me and I immediately regret asking.

"Not here." He answers through gritted teeth.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean he never showed up." He says sternly, turning his head to look me in the eyes. "We called and we called and left message after message and not once did we hear back from him."

"Oh." Is all I have the ability to say. Harry sighs loudly and closes his eyes. I look away towards the ceiling. I thought he might've fallen asleep when he spoke again.

"I'm sorry." He says quietly. I look at him again and his eyes are still closed.

"Harry, don't." I plead with him.

"Louis, let me talk." I say nothing. "I'm sorry I yelled at you. I know you've been going through a lot and I just… I worry so much about you. What if… What if one night he kicks too hard or punches too low and I lose you? I can't let that happen, Louis. The world would be losing so much if it lost you. And it already is, ya know? Losing you, I mean. Everyday you become less and less like yourself. You get quieter and slower and more and more tired and I… I miss you. I miss my Loubear… I'm sorry, I sound so selfish." Harry reaches up to rub the tears off his eyes and I don't even bother to wipe away the tears trickling down my face. "I should've told someone long ago, I know that now."

"I made you promise not to." I murmur.

"I know." He says turning to face me. "And that's why I didn't say anything. I didn't want to hurt you." He snickers darkly. "Look how great that turned out." We sit in silence for a while before Harry speaks again. "You need to tell someone, Louis."

"No." I respond immediately and instead of staying silent like Harry might've done before, he fights back.

"Yes. And if you don't I will. One of us is going to call the cops and they'll give him what he deserves."

"Harry, no." I plead, already starting to shake. I close my eyes, trying to ward off all thoughts of my father.

"Louis?" Harry says and I don't respond. I feel a strong hand wrap around my shoulder and pull me on my side so I face Harry directly. "Louis, look at me." I open my eyes slowly expecting to see Harry staring down at me sternly but I couldn't have been more wrong. His face is calm, eyes soothing, he places a hand on my cheek and wipes away one of my tears with the pad of his thumb.

"We'll call the police together." He starts calmly. "They'll take him away and he won't be able to hurt you anymore. There won't any more fear or pain or sadness. He'll be gone and everything will be okay."

"D-do you promise?" I stutter through my tears. And for the first time in such a long time they're tears of happiness because I've wanted this for _so long_.

"I promise, Louis." He says with a slight smile and a few tears of his own and I nod. He begins to take his phone out of his back pocket but I grab his wrist.

"Not yet. Just… tomorrow, please? Give me until tomorrow." I beg, shaking slightly and Harry is quick to comfort me. He wraps an arm around my waist and runs his hand up and down my back.

"Tomorrow." He promises quietly, giving me a soft kiss on my forehead "Tomorrow."

He continues to pepper kisses along my face and before I fall asleep for the fourth time that day he presses a kiss to my lips.

"I love you, Louis." He whispers.

"Good." I whisper back.

"Yeah."


End file.
